


what am I?

by vanroku



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dimitri makes a big mistake and feels like an asshole, Dom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Facials, M/M, No Spoilers, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slut Shaming, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanroku/pseuds/vanroku
Summary: “Unlike some nobles in this monastery,” Dimitri said, “I have no interest in acting like a common whore.”orDimitri says something he can't take back and Sylvain realizes he likes it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 102





	what am I?

**Author's Note:**

> this is for dima and chris for letting me write 1k of this in our gc, also for getting me into the damn ship with their self-indulgent writing too. this took so long to post bc i forgot about it for like a week  
> this is the first fic ive published since 2015 oh my god

Dimitri was on edge, the final frayed end of his patience was nearly tangible. He ran his gloved hand along the edge of his desk, attempting to ground himself, to acknowledge the proverbial edge of his wits and physically hold onto it. However, all he got was an indentation in the wood of his fingers as it buckled under his grip.

“C'mon, Your Highness,” Sylvain said with an easygoing, friendly smile on his face that only made Dimitri's mood even more sour. “Why don't you say screw it to your responsibilities for just one night and go out and have some fun? I can even help you pick up some girls.”

Sylvain was well aware how painfully inexperienced he was with women, and the longer Sylvain would discuss a night out on the town, the less sincere it felt and the more it sounded like teasing.

Dimitri couldn't even bother feeling embarrassed anymore. Sylvain's incessant prodding of Dimitri was bordering on annoying, the young prince could only stand so much propositioning from his friend before he would finally snap.

He wasn't in the mood for such degeneracy. Such actions were _incredibly_ unbecoming of someone that was merely months away from coming into his role of king. 

He was tired, really. Tired in both the literal sense and the mental and emotional sense. Many talks with Archbishop Rhea as well as other advisors and people of the Central Church on preparations for his distant coronation on his eighteenth birthday were making him all-too-aware of the impending doom that was the responsibility of leading a kingdom, cleaning up the mess of a war torn countryside, prove the innocence of the people of Duscur, marry a bride arranged for him, produce an heir to his kingdom and pass on his Crest—

 _“Sylvain,”_ Dimitri said, mustering the pressure of all these thoughts into his voice to try and stave off the enthusiastic noble, “I’m _exhausted.”_

“That’s nothing a couple drinks couldn’t solve,” Sylvain said with a wink, “I’m sure the girls would like the crown prince of the Holy Kingdom when he’s feeling a bit loose—”

Enough. Dimitri had finally had enough.

He stood abruptly from where he was stationed at his desk, his chair tipping over and falling to the floor with a violent crash. From his perch on Dimitri's bed, Sylvain flinched, the shock of the sudden action cutting his words short.

Dimitri rounded on him, blood boiling in a fury he hadn’t realized he’d been suppressing. Everything was coming to a head and unfortunately Sylvain was the one to bear the brunt of it.

“I don’t have time for such frivolities,” Dimitri growled. “I have more important matters to attend to than to lower myself to such a level of depravity.” Sylvain's eyes grew wide in shock, his mouth still open with his unspoken words. 

“Unlike some nobles in this monastery,” Dimitri continued, “I have no interest in acting like a common _whore.”_

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dimitri paled, his entire body growing cold as his eyes grew wide. Sylvain recoiled, his eyes darting to the wall as he lowered his head as if Dimitri had struck him across the face. He looked hurt, wounded by the harsh words of someone that was supposed to be his friend.

“S-Sylvain,” Dimitri began, “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry-”

The laugh Sylvain made was unnerving. “’ _A whore_ ’“ he parroted. “A lowly whore of the people.” He laughed again, louder, much louder. 

“Sylvain, no” Dimitri said, his voice rushed and panicked. “I’m sorry, I made a mistake—”

“Again,” Sylvain said, his voice dropping low in something akin to awe. “Tell me what I am.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“Tell me again what I am,” Sylvain repeated, eyes snapping back to Dimitri. “What you called me.”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri repeated, “it was uncalled for and so rude of me, I’m horrified by my actions—”

“No,” Sylvain cut in, voice now higher, hysterical. “Dimitri, shut up.” Immediately, Dimitri's mouth snapped shut. “No— actually, say it again, I want you to. What am I?”

“I don’t understand—”

“Dimitri,” Sylvain said, voice bordering desperate as he drew his knees close to his body, eyes still locked with Dimitri's despite how wild they were. “What you called me. Tell me what I am. What am I? Tell me.”

“A...” Dimitri began, suddenly nervous. “A whore?”

“Fuck,” Sylvain hissed. _“Fuck.”_

“I’m sorry—”

“Shut up, stop apologizing,” Sylvain said. “Fuck— again. what am I?”

“A-A whore—”

“Oh goddess,” Sylvain whispered. “Again.”

“Whore.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Sylvain whined. 

Dimitri flinched. “Are you...” he began, words suddenly difficult as he tried grasping just exactly what was happening. “Are you getting off on this?”

Sylvain made a wounded noise and drew his legs closer to himself, folding into himself as if he could become smaller.

Dimitri stared in awe. _“Saints...”_ he whispered beneath his breath. Before he could stop himself he was moving, shoving Sylvain down, climbing onto the bed and wrenching at Sylvain's knees. The strength that blessed his bloodline was fueled by his desperation, his hands moving as if possessed, needing to know, needing to see.

Sylvain struggled, attempting to pull away as if he could protect himself from Dimitri finding the truth but it was too late, it was pointless to fight back. Sylvain fell limp, legs splayed on either side of Dimitri's knees as the answer to Dimitri's question showed itself.

It was there, Sylvain's cock hard in his pants, a prominent outline that couldn’t be explained away with any stuttered lies. By the looks of it, the sheer state of his trousers alone, it was clear to Dimitri just how long he had been like this.

“ _You are_.”

Sylvain refused to meet Dimitri's stare. “Get off me, ‘mitri,” he mumbled. Dimitri sat there in shock, crouched between Sylvain's thighs. The sudden intimacy of the situation was not lost on him, the air around him felt heavy. 

“You actually liked that I called you a whore.” His voice was soft as if under a spell, his brain slowly worked through the information suddenly presented to him.

Sylvain's leg kicked out in response, his cock giving an obvious throb even through the fabric of his pants.

“Is this what you were wanting from me?” Dimitri said, voice lost in wonder.

Sylvain's throat bobbed as he struggled to find words, the situation suddenly dawning on him, his actions now clear as the haze of shock and unrealized arousal lifted. “N-no,” he protested. “I just wanted you to—”

“Quiet, whore,” Dimitri growled.

Sylvain's mouth snapped shut with a click, a full body shiver running violently through him.

“Is this how the heir of House Gautier acts?” Dimitri asked, voice firm as if confidence had suddenly filled him. “Is this the sight that would meet me if I took you up on your offer? Would you roll over like a dog and beg strangers for attention like a bitch in heat?”

“I-”

“How pathetic.”

Sylvain's breath caught in his throat in a sharp gasp.

“You wanted me to call you a whore, did you not?” Dimitri's voice wavered for a moment, but one glance down at Sylvain's still hard cock showed how the words were affecting him. A damp spot of precum was at the tip, soiling the fabric of what had to cost a very pretty bouillon.

Sylvain stayed silent, too afraid to further incriminate himself, his cheeks blooming in a deep red flush.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Your Highness,” Sylvain whispered, “I did.”

Dimitri growled in the back of his throat, closing his eyes momentarily as he felt the term stir arousal low in his belly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Sylvain let out a slow, shaky sigh. “I can’t argue against the truth.”

“You can't, can you.” Dimitri allowed a smirk to grace his lips. “How about _you_ tell me what you are, since you were so eager for me to repeat myself.”

“A whore,” Sylvain said. “I’m a lowly whore, a no-good slut, I take to bed anything that walks and talks that doesn’t say no to me.”

Dimitri hummed. “What do you want from me, then?”

“I want you to touch me,” Sylvain whispered.

“Why should I touch a lowly whore like you? How many hands have been laid on you?”

“T-Too many,” Sylvain whispered. “Dimitri please.”

Dimitri hummed. “Ask again.”

“Please, Your Highness,” Sylvain whined. “Touch me please, I’m begging.”

Dimitri could hardly contain himself, his hands jumped to Sylvain, undecided on where to rest as he took the opportunity to run them along the backs of Sylvain's thighs, ending at his knees to hike them up around his waist. 

Dimitri leaned down, drawn back far enough so as to not rest his body on Sylvain's. He hovered his face above him, asking a silent question that was answered when Sylvain surged upwards to meet him in a desperate kiss.

 _This_ was where Sylvain excelled. His kiss was experienced, he was a veteran leading along an eager pupil that matched his skill with sheer enthusiasm.

Sylvain's fingers ran through Dimitri's hair, cradling his head and guiding him to a perfect angle, leading his lips along in a smooth glide that melted the young prince down into his arms.

Dimitri became lost in him, every point of contact suddenly burning in the most painful, wonderful way. His nerves sang with each touch, a violent shudder wracking his entire body. Sylvain pulled him down, down, down, dragging him deep below the surface until Dimitri was draped atop him.

Sylvain's expert hands were leading him too far from his original intentions. 

Dimitri broke their kiss with a frustrated noise, moving onto his hands. Sylvain let out a barely contained whine and attempted to pull him back.

“I won't let you have your way with me,” Dimitri said, voice unwavering despite the delicious feeling of Sylvain beneath him, the way their cocks were pressed tight against one another separated only by the fabric of their pants. He was loath to draw away, really, but this wasn't what they established, wasn't the dynamic that got them there in the first place.

“C'mon, Dimitri,” Sylvain whined, rolling his hips up slowly against Dimitri's. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Dimitri hissed a breath between his teeth; it was becoming harder and harder to resist him. “Your mouth,” Dimitri said. “I want to fuck your mouth.”

“Fuck—” Sylvain groaned. “Yeah, okay, _yeah.”_

Sylvain shoved at him, pushing Dimitri onto his back with the ease of a man on a mission. Sylvain settled between his knees, admiring the view of the prince laid out beneath him with his teeth pressed sharp to his tongue. He had to commit this to memory; this was spank bank material to last him his lifetime.

Dimitri's cock was tenting his pants, evident even through the confining material that he was _big._ Sylvain made quick work of ridding the prince of his clothing, moving first from his dress shirt to his pants with well-practiced, deft fingers. The prince's cock sprang forth once freed from its confines, standing proud despite how demure Dimitri suddenly became at the sheer obscenity of it all.

“Who knew His Highness was hung like a horse,” Sylvain said, lips quirked into a smile as he ran a finger up the underside of Dimitri's cock, catching at the jut beneath the head before pressing hard into the slit.

“G-Get on with it.”

Sylvain had never actually filled his mouth with another man before but he was aching for Dimitri, could feel his tongue heavy behind his teeth, eager and salivating. He had a lot of experience with receiving blowjobs, so how hard could it be? All he had to do was copy what he liked. 

He closed in and wrapped a confident hand around the base, dragging down the foreskin protecting the ridge to fully reveal the flushed head. 

Sylvain watched in fascination. It glistened with precum, the slit slowly oozing the clear liquid with nearly each pulse of Dimitri's heartbeat. It slipped down the head, running down the underside and Sylvain dove down and chased it with his tongue, tracing it back up until he tongued the slit to lap up the rest.

“Sylvain,” Dimitri whispered, “please don't tease me.”

How could Sylvain say no to that?

Without preamble Sylvain finally descended on Dimitri's cock, laving the tip before he wrapped his lips around it, taking it into his mouth with a pleased noise.

 _No teeth_ , Sylvain reminded himself. _Gotta be open wide enough to not use teeth._

The head was thick in his mouth, thicker than he thought it would feel. He flattened his tongue and rubbed it against the underside, closing his eyes and focusing on taking in more. 

Dimitri loudly groaned, giving no warning before his hips twitched, bumping his cock against the back of Sylvain's throat. Sylvain nearly gagged, pulling off with a pop, coughing and sputtering.

“C'mon Dimitri,” he whined, “control yourself, I've barely started.”

“I'm sorry!” Dimitri yelped, handing shooting forth to cup Sylvain's jaw, apologetic and soothing, eager to please. He rubbed at Sylvain's cheek with his thumb, oddly tender and making something within Sylvain flutter before Sylvain stomped the feeling down as hard as he could.

“Put your hands in my hair to ground yourself,” Sylvain said, guiding Dimitri's hand by his wrist to lace his fingers through the bright red strands. He gave him a wink. “Try not to pull it out, okay?”

Dimitri seemed as if he was going to protest but Sylvain cut him short, descending his mouth down upon Dimitri's cock once more. Sylvain's lips stretched around his girth, dragging along it as he began bobbing his head, keeping the head of Dimitri's cock shallow in his mouth, dancing his tongue around it like the tease he was.

He wouldn't try to push himself again, throwing up on His Highness' cock was the least sexy thing he could possibly do and would probably scare Dimitri off for good. Or get him a one-way ticket to the dungeons. Or maybe he would just get sent straight to the chopping block. Oh how he hoped Dimitri would, at the least, display his head on his royal mantle. Y'know, as a warning.

The hand he kept at the base holding Dimitri's cock steady began pumping him slowly, the closed fist of his fingers dragging up to meet his lips with a twist. Sylvain could feel the ooze of precum drip down the back of his tongue, sliding down with each swallow around Dimitri's cock.

Dimitri choked on a gasp, flexing his fingers in Sylvain's hair, his entire body trembling with the effort to keep himself still. 

“What a pretty little whore,” Dimitri babbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “Treating me so well... How many others have experienced how heavenly your mouth feels?” Dimitri’s eyes were glassy as he panted between gently parted lips, moving his fingers to gently pet Sylvain.

There it was again. Sylvain made a needy noise around Dimitri's cock that was loud enough to rattle their bones. He couldn't take it, he really couldn't. 

Sylvain pulled off, mouthing along the side of it, bending until he was resting his head on Dimitri's thigh as his fingers fell to his pants, palming himself, squeezing his cock through the fabric before finally unlacing them to free himself.

He moaned into Dimitri's thigh, fucking his closed fist with stuttering breaths. He went back to pumping Dimitri, moving both his hands in tandem with needy sighs echoed by Dimitri.

“I'm close,” Dimitri gasped, fisting his hand in Sylvain's hair to drag him back to his cock. “Please keep going.”

With urgency befitting a man starved down to his bones, Sylvain engulfed Dimitri once again, taking him as far as he could go, hitting the back of his throat with a small choke. Through sheer force of will he kept him there, moaning with need as he furiously pumped his own cock.

Dimitri trembled beneath him, caught between wanting to yank at Sylvain's hair and wanting to gently pet his head. “I'm—” Dimitri whimpered, tensing hard beneath Sylvain, pulling at his hair to lift him away lest he come down his throat without proper warning.

Sylvain followed Dimitri's guiding, twitching hand, pulling off his cock with a wet pop. He watched Dimitri carefully, the way his bright blue eyes were engulfed by his blown out pupils, the way his bright blond hair stuck to his forehead, before he closed his eyes and opened his mouth as he dragged his hand over Dimitri's cock for one last stroke.

Dimitri let out a final needy whimper, coming with a broken moan, covering Sylvain's face with each spurt. Dimitri's cum dripped down Sylvain's face, globs sliding down his cheek, dripping off his hair and into his lashes. Sylvain bowed above him, desperately fucking his own fist before finally, finally coming, catching most of his cum in the palm of his hand. 

They remained in silence for a moment, relishing in the glow before the bubble finally burst. Sylvain jumped to his feet, wiping at his face with his shirt but only smearing everything further. 

“Thanks for that,” he said, voice a bit high and words a bit fast. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Sylvain, wait,” Dimitri protested, sitting up and reaching for him. Sylvain didn't spare him a second glance, fleeing before Dimitri could say anything more.

Sylvain couldn't run far, not with Dimitri's cum all over his face, so he resigned himself to returning to his room beside Dimitri's, shutting his door softly and setting the latch. He grabbed the rarely-used shirt of his house loungewear, wiping off his hand and rubbing at his face to clean off the evidence of what had just occurred.

He collapsed onto his bed and stared ahead at the wall he shared with Dimitri, ashamed of himself and his lack of self control and dreading ever leaving his room again.

**Author's Note:**

> god i fucking hate formatting  
> follow me on my [twitter.](https://twitter.com/vnroku)


End file.
